


A Long Evening

by DoctorSnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, One Shot, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorSnow/pseuds/DoctorSnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon Greyjoy agrees to keep an eye on the Stark kids for one evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Evening

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic :
> 
> Theon - 18  
> Sansa - 16  
> Arya - 14  
> Bran - 12  
> Rickon - 8
> 
> All characters owned by GRRM.

**7:30**

Taking a few deep breaths, he rang the bell.

Mrs. Stark opened the door with a wide smile.

“Theon! Come on in. Thank you so much for this. Robb and Jon are usually around, but they’ve gone off to some wretched summer camp. We’re glad you could do this for us.” She said, ushering him in.

“Not a problem, Mrs. S. After all, what are neighbors for?”

Mr. Stark greeted him curtly, offering his hand. “Greyjoy. Much obliged.”

“Mr. Stark. Glad to be of help.” He said as they shook hands.

It was the elephant in the room, although no one attempted to bring it up. Ned Stark and his father used to be good friends once. Then they moved on to become business partners. That was where everything went south.

The parents were going out, probably on a date night. That made this the first time in months he had set foot in their home. He hung out with Robb and Jon sometimes, though they were usually outside. There was only so much you could do in the house.

“So here are the spare keys, just in case you need them. The kids have already eaten. There’s meatloaf in the fridge. Help yourself if you’re hungry. Bran needs to take his medicines before he goes to bed. Remind him, he always forgets. And don’t let Arya play her guitar after 10. It disturbs the neighbors. And you have my number. Call me if there’s anything you need.” Mrs. Stark said, handing him a set of keys. “We’ll be back before 11. You think you can handle them for a few hours?”

“It’s no big deal, Mrs. S. I like being around kids.” He lied, giving her the sweetest of smiles.

“Perfect. Don’t let them leave the house.” She said, exiting with Mr. Stark through the front door.

Mr. Stark gave him a knowing stare before he left. It unnerved him, like he was laid bare for the whole world to see. _It was my father who screwed you over, you asshole. Not me_.

He watched from the window as their car backed out of the driveway.

As he slumped on the couch, he realized he'd forgotten to ask them the most important question. _Where were the kids?_

_  
_

* * *

**8:00**

He was busy chatting with Wex on his phone when Sansa walked out of her room, dressed in denim pants and a leather jacket, heading for the door. She probably hadn’t noticed him.

“Hey, where are you going?”

She bristled, turning to look at him.

“Oh, Theon, is it? You gave me a scare. What are you doing here?”

“Well, your parents asked me to stay over for a few hours while they went out. Just to watch over you guys.”

“Oh. Cool.” She opened the door, heading outside.

“You haven’t answered my question.” He said, standing up.

She looked like someone had asked her for both her kidneys. “I’m sorry?”

“Your parents said no one was supposed to leave the house.”

“Listen, it’s no big deal. I’ll be back in like an hour, tops.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t allow you to do that.”

She strode to him. She was all dressed up today, probably going to meet Joffrey. She was just a couple inches shorter than him, but in heels they were about the same height. He furtively tried to keep his eyes from traveling down to her breasts. He felt his cock hardening in his pants. _Get a hold of yourself, Theon_. Now might not be the right time to tell her that he had been wanting to ask her out for over a year.

“What are you, my father?” she said derisively. “I’ll go out if I want to. You can’t stop me.”

He pulled out his cellphone, waving it in her face. “Well, your mother can.”

“Fine.” Her haughty expression changed to one of resentment. “Have it your way, asshole.” She walked back inside.

He heaved a sigh of relief. _This is so not what I signed up for._

 

* * *

 

**8:15**

Sansa sat on the opposite couch, talking on the phone.

“Yeah. No, I can’t make it tonight. No, it’s just this asshole Mom called over to _watch over me_.” She stared at him reproachfully, listening. “No, not a chance. He said he’d tell on me if I left. Yeah, what am I, like eight? Yeah, you could come over. No, they won’t be back till eleven. Okay. See you.”

He sat with his face buried in a magazine, biting his lip. Like her leaving wasn’t any worse. Now he would have to endure Joffrey Baratheon. He would have to remind his sister not to speak for him again. If she hadn’t agreed to him coming over, he would have been saved a night of trouble.

The sound of a distorted guitar cut through the silence of the house. _Arya, probably._ Sansa screwed up her nose and covered her ears. “Turn down the volume!” Theon chuckled. He had to admit, it was rather loud. She sounded really good, though. He used to be in a band, himself. Even he couldn’t chug that fast.

He went upstairs to the source of the sound, knocking on the door.

“All right, all right! I’ll turn it down.” Arya’s voice called from inside.

“It’s me, Theon. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, come in.”

He pushed the door open. Arya’s room would put his own to shame. The walls were adorned with posters of bands ranging from Lamb of God to Foo Fighters. An acoustic guitar sat alone in a corner, dusty and unused. He didn’t blame her. _Once you go electric, you forget everything else_.

She sat at her computer, holding a black beauty on her lap. She looked up at him, smiling.

“What’s up?”

“You’re bloody fast.” He said, beaming. “How long have you been playing?”

“About two years, I guess. I got this just a few months back.” She said indicating towards the guitar she held. “Do you play too?”

“Used to. I was in a band. _The Krakens_. You don’t remember? We played a bunch of times at school.”

“Oh, that was you on lead?” She asked, surprised. “I never liked you guys much, though.”

“Yeah. We weren’t too creative.” He said, ears reddening.

“Listen, you wanna mess around for a while? I get bored playing old stuff. You could show me something new.”

He pulled up a chair, sitting down. “Well, at the rate you’re progressing, you’ll be the one teaching me.”

 

* * *

 

 

**9:00**

The doorbell rang. He looked up from his playing.

“That’s Joffrey, isn’t it?” Arya asked him, sighing. “I don’t get what she sees in him. Looks, I can understand. But he’s a rotten fruit. And he has a bad temper.”

“Yep.” He handed the guitar back to her. “I’d best go check on your brothers.”

“Okay. Hey, we should hang out more often. We could meet up this Saturday. We get off early from school. You can show me some of your _Kraken_ riffs then.”

He chuckled. “I thought you didn’t like our sound.”

She made a face. “Well, it wasn’t that bad, now that I think of it.”

He ruffled her unkempt hair. “Saturday it is, then.”

Cautiously, he peered down the stairway to the living room.

Sansa and Joffrey were kissing. On the couch. _Bloody oafs_.

He went to Bran and Rickon’s room, knocking first. When there was no response, he opened the door.

Bran was wired in to his computer. It seemed like he was in the middle of a game. A first-person shooter, most likely. He used to love playing Counter Strike as a kid. Well, until his dad broke the CD. Rickon sat next to him, watching the game.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey.” Rickon replied, not looking up from the game.

“You hungry? You want me to fix you a sandwich or something?”

“Nope.”

He grew irritated. “Ask Bran if he's hungry.”

Rickon tapped Bran on the shoulder. He shrugged him off. “Not now, Rickon. I’m the last one left.”

“Theon’s asking if you want something to eat.” He said, tapping his shoulder again.

“I said, NOT NOW!” He yelled, pushing Rickon away.

Rickon fell on his butt, crying. Theon went to him, kneeling next to him. “Hey, don’t cry. You’re what, seven now?”

“Eight.”

“That means you’re grown up now. Do grown-ups cry?” he asked him, wiping his tears.

“No. But I want him to say he’s sorry.” he said, tousled hair falling over his eyes.

“Good. He will. Now sit there. I’ll talk to your brother.”

Bran was still playing, oblivious to what happened around him. He yanked the headphones out from Bran’s ears.

“What the hell, man?” Bran looked at him angrily.

“You pushed your brother. Apologize to him. Now.”

“Whatever, man.”

“You made him cry. Apologize to him or I’ll tell your parents.”

“ _Tell your parents._ ” He mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “Go home. I don’t need a babysitter.” He said, continuing to play his game.

He sighed. _Fucking kids. No wonder Dad broke my CD._ Leaning over, he pulled the main plug from its socket.

A jolt went through him. He recoiled, drawing his hand, slipping on a skateboard and falling on his back, hitting his head hard on the floor.

“FUCK!”

“What the hell did you do, you idiot?” Bran was shouting at him indistinctly. “You fucked up my game!”

He ran a hand behind his head. _Blood._ _I am never agreeing to this shit again_.

“Have your medicines before you go to sleep.”

Awkwardly, he got up from the floor and stumbled out of the room.

A hand steadied him.

“What just happened? I heard shouting.”

“Ask your brothers.” He said, leaning on the wall for support.

“Is everything all right?” Sansa called from downstairs.

“Nothing that concerns you. Get back to your snogging.” Arya yelled back.

“You’re bleeding.” She said, sitting him down on the steps. “Wait. Stay right here. I’ll get some ice.”

“Get me a beer too, if you can.” He called after her.

 

* * *

 

**9:30**

“Is Rickon all right?” he asked her.

“Yeah, he’s fine.” She said, pressing the ice pack on his head.

“I shouldn’t have disconnected the game. Tell Bran I’m sorry.”

“No need for that. They could do without some of that bullshit. Mom doesn’t tell them much anyways.”

He tried to get up. “I think I’m fine.”

She stared at him apprehensively. “You’ll be needing stitches.”

“Yep. Thank you, by the way.” He said, walking out of the room.

“See you on Saturday!” she called after him.

Clutching the railing, he climbed downstairs. The living room was empty. Joffrey must have left. _But where was Sansa?_ He opened the main door and looked outside. Sansa sat on the grass, smoking. She jerked when she heard him come.

“You really need to stop sneaking up on me. I thought you were one of the boys.”

“You have another?” he asked.

Sluggishly, she pulled out a pack from her jacket and tossed it to him.

“Where’s the dolt?” he asked, sitting down next to her.

“Asshole.” She mumbled under her breath.

“You know, I do get tired of being called an asshole three times a day.”

“ _Not you_. Joffrey.”

“Why? What’d he do this time?”

“He came over more drunk than usual today. He kept calling me by some other name when we were, um, you know. Does the name Margeary mean anything to you?”

“Yeah. She’s over at Highgarden. I met her at his house once.”

“I knew it!” she said, fuming. “That bastard!”

“You didn’t know?” He looked at her, surprised. “Everyone at school knows. I bet even your brothers know.”

“Well, then why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“I guess they thought you knew. And that you were okay with it.”

That shocked her. “Why would they – Oh my God, I think I’m about to throw up.”

“Listen.” He said, rubbing her back. “Forget about that asshole. You were too good for him.”

She looked at him indecisively for a moment, then got up, stubbing out her cigarette. “Are you going to tell on me about the smoking as well?”

“No.” he got up, dusting his clothes. “But what’s in it for me?”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “Coffee. I’ll buy you coffee.”

He shook his head. “Not gonna cut it.”

“Well, what then?”

“Movies. Saturday. No, cut that. Friday.”

She looked puzzled. “Is this a date or what?”

“Call it what you want.” He said, smiling to himself as they walked back to the house.


End file.
